


Désolée

by RoxyKatz (sonderlust)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Love Triangle, Multi, PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonderlust/pseuds/RoxyKatz
Summary: Amelie is confronted by the demons of her past as she attempts to adjust to civilian life and finds feelings for two unexpected old colleagues. Slow burn romance/drama.





	1. Step into my parlor...

  “Would you like to know something about spiders, Morrison?” I set the cup of tea down in front of my unwanted guest. A consummate host, even when I am being inconvenienced and bothered. No use being rude, after all.  
  “Not particularly.” His voice was gravelly and worn. The years must have been difficult for him. “But you’re going to tell me anyways, aren’t you?”  
  “You know me too well.” I took a seat and walked my fingers down the arm rest of my chair. “I used to be terrified of spiders, you know...but as the years have gone by, I’ve come to admire them...we sometimes grow fond of that which we have kinship with, no? Anyways,...black widows are reputed to be quite terrible, aggressive things- quick to harm, quick to kill. But in reality, they aren’t so fearsome...the black widow, she can even be handled, albeit, with care.” My eyes drifted up to meet his. How tired he looked behind all the stone. Of course, I knew what it was like to feel such fatigue.  
  A strange sound issued from his lips- laughter, perhaps?  
  “So you’re just going around handling black widows now? Smart. Real Smart.”  
  “Don’t be rude, Morrison.” Venom in my words, though it was not necessarily intentional. “Anyways...the only time you should really fear the widow, is when she is cornered or disturbed. She will protect herself at any cost.” I watched as something flickered across his face- it’s been so long, though, since I had really felt anything, I couldn’t quite place what it was. “Do you understand me, mon cher?”  
  He narrowed his eyes, picked up his tea, stared into it, and set it back down again. Such gentleness- a stark contrast to the expression that wormed its way onto his chiseled face. “I read you...loud and clear.” He stood up and I was happy to watch him make his way to the door. However, something gave him pause, made him stop.  
  “Morrison, I see you’ve found the door.” I grew weary of the unwelcome reminder of a past I was desperately trying to escape. “Why don’t you make use of it before you wear out your welcome in full.”  
  He sighed, he hemmed, he hawed. “Lacro-...Amélie...” Another sigh. “Why don’t you...come with me to-“  
  “Enough.” I cut him off and stood up. Something flickered in my chest and I felt a strange sensation spreading through my torso. _Panic?_ “Get out.”  
  “But Amélie...” The gravel in his voice gave way to softness and it made me sick. What a heavy, disgusting feeling.  
  “Leave.” Calm, cool. No reason to let him know there was anything in there- it would pass, as all things do.  
  “Please...” A whisper, a plea- blue eyes the color of sky entreated me listen. But the sick, wretched feeling rising to the surface begged me to end this uncomfortable situation. “Why don’t we-...”  
  “Get OUT!” I clenched my teeth, but the venom spilled out, etching my words with fury. My hand reflexively snatched up a nearby letter opener and before I could bid it stop, launched it with deadly precision at the door.  
  The old man’s reflexes hadn’t dulled, merci mon Dieu- it would have been a shame to have to clean up his blood from my new entryway rug. He looked at the blade lodged in the wall, and then back at me. I knew this expression- something pounded in my chest and my head swam as the deep recesses of my mind processed it. I remembered it from somewhere. _Don’t think, Amélie, just breathe, don’t think..._ The world flipped on its axis and my veins burned as this strange sensation burned like a red hot coal in my chest. I was so dizzy. So very dizzy. A voice from within begged for mercy, but I would give it no quarter. _Don’t give in. Don’t think, don’t feel...stay here._  
  “You know what, Lacroix?” He was so quiet...so far away. “You can go to H-...” And then, nothing. Oblivion swept me into his arms again, and the inky blackness of unconsciousness surrounded me as I went under.


	2. Ne me quitte pas...

_Mon Dieu, not again..._  
  I awoke to an unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar scent. Antiseptic, fresh linens, and something else...meadowsweet. _He didn’t..._  
  Ah, but he did. That meddling Morrison took it upon himself to deliver me into the arms of the Angel- Mercy. Something scrabbled in my brain as the old code name bounced around in there. Something I wanted to keep locked away. Something...dangerous.  
  I opened my eyes and winced as the look of my displeasure tugged at something painful on my temple. I must have made a noise of pain (though if so, I don’t recall), for no sooner did her name grace my mind than she appeared at my bedside, radiant and obnoxiously cheerful.  
  “Ah! Amélie, I see you’re back with us in the land of the living?” She smiled through me swatting her away as she attempted to adjust my pillow.  
  “It appears so, Doctor.”  
  She clucked her tongue and continued to fuss over me. Strange and unwelcome.  
  “Come now, Amélie, no need to be so formal.” Her Prussian blue eyes scanned me with almost mechanical precision. “How are you feeling?”  
  I raised a brow. “You know as well as I do, I don’t feel anything at all.”  
  A noise of exasperation. _Good. You’d do well to mind your own business, Angela._ A little smile found its way to my lips- getting under her skin was a little indulgence I liked to partake in every now and again.  
  “Good grief, you know that’s not what I mean!”  
  “Oh?” I tilted my head, feigned ignorance.  
  “How is your pain?”  
  “Hmm...now that, dear doctor, is a thinker, n’est-ce pas? I suppose it all depends on how you classify ‘pain’, yes?”  
  She sighed and shook her head. “You know, I have much more difficult patients than you, Ms. Lacroix, and even they can appreciate my bedside manner.” A stethoscope snaked its way under the hospital gown and she furrowed her brows. “Now...deep breath in....”  
  I complied with her requests, much as it was troublesome to deal with. After all, the sooner she was done playing doctor, the sooner I could return to my life...or what was left of it.  
  She was always so bright, so cheerful...like sunshine. An angel forged in light and compassion. And here I was- a disgraced shell of a woman, broken, hollow. I began to fear that I might shatter if she exhaled too forcefully. Too close to the sun, and I would surely burn...  
  “Alright then.” She moved her hand away and the warmth that was there gradually faded. “Vitals seem to be improving every day. Are you still taking your medicines?”  
  “Of course.”  
  “Very good.” She paused and I braced myself as she turned serious all of a sudden. “You know, Amélie....you might benefit from seeing a therapist.”  
  I felt the bile rise in my throat. Absurd. “And you might benefit from minding your business.”  
  She sighed- for a moment, she was weary, tired, overworked. I don’t know what possessed me, but for just a shimmering second, I felt bad for putting such an emotional burden upon her. A brief mistake, but she _was_ trying to help and, despite everything, she remained so optimistic.  
  “I’m only trying to help.”  
  “Well, your talents are best served in the area of physical medicine. Let’s keep it there.” I sat up and winced- hand to forehead. Bandages. I must have hit my head. Clumsy. “I’m taking the medications, I’m maintaining the check up schedule. I’m accepting your help, despite my better judgment, Angela.”  
  “Well, maybe it’s _because_ of your better judgment, hmm?” A smile and wink. Such a lovely face- through it all, I think her kindness kept her young and beautiful. I wondered what it must be like.  
  I felt that strange sick feeling again. Time to change the subject. Time to flee from this feeling. “I smell flowers- is your garden doing well?”  
  She beamed and my heart melted just a little bit. _Revolting. Absurd. It’s just a smile._  
  “Oh, quite well! The chamomile flowers you gave me are blooming- they look just lovely.” It was nice to talk about casual things with her- she put me at ease, made me feel...human. “And of course they will make wonderful tea. Perhaps I can share with you.”  
  I couldn’t help myself- I felt a smile creep its way onto my face. It felt strange, foreign...but at the same time it felt nice since it was for her. I remembered feeling this way before, a long time ago. _Happiness?_  
  “That...would be nice.”  
  “Super!” She chuckled and handed me a glass of water. “Chamomile tea is quite good for promoting restful sleep. Plus, it tastes ever so lovely”  
  I nodded and my mind wandered back to the reason I was here in the first place. _Morrison._  
  “So...Doc-...I mean, Angela...” I looked out the window. “Did Morrison...was he here?”  
  “Why yes, he was.” He tone was quiet, almost sad. “You know, he worries about you. But he isn’t ah...how do you say...he’s not quite so good at... _expressing_ himself.”  
  I snorted. “You don’t say?”  
  “Well, he mentioned he would visit if you were still here later.” She chuckled to herself. “I’m sure he was banking on you making some great escape.”  
  “Hmm...he knows me too well, I suppose. I would be lying if I said it wasn’t on my mind initially.” A wry smile punctuated my sentence. “But it seems your bedside manner is just too good to resist. You are quite the gracious host, dear doctor.”  
  Her champagne laugh bubbled through the room and I felt that strange sick feeling spreading through my torso again. Master of stealth, I sipped my water and did my best to not let on that I was feeling poorly. No need to stress the poor doctor, it would surely pass with rest.  
  “Oh Amélie, such a kidder!” She wiped a tear from her eye and sighed. “But anyways, you get some rest- I’ll let Jack know that you haven’t escaped yet.” A wink and she glided out the door.  
  I sank back into the bed and looked up at the ceiling- no matter which facility, the ceiling was always the same. I closed my eyes and rested, thankful that the sick, dizzy feeling was gradually fading. _Maybe I should talk to Angela about adjusting my medications- but...I don’t want to deal with any more troublesome doctor’s visits. Waste of my time._  
Time was something I had in abundance though, now that I was back in the civilian sector. I thought about it briefly, but the pain in my head crescendoed as I attempted to focus on anything for too long. It was better to just rest- sleep, though fitful, did eventually come. Sleep always managed to find its way to me- the sleep I did not mind so much. The dreams, however...funny how the mind tucks things away, hides them in the deepest, darkest corners, only to show them to you when you’re helplessly held in the arms of slumber. We all must pay for our transgressions one way or another, though, I suppose. And I must pay them back with interest, if the dreams are any indication.


End file.
